


Delicacy

by skybound2



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybound2/pseuds/skybound2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran teaches Mahariel the art of poison making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tessiedearest](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tessiedearest).



> **Author's Note**: In response to a prompt request. **Tessiedearest** requested Zevran and Mahariel talking in camp at night. This little snippet in the life is the result.

So, poison making? Not as easy as it sounds. Lyna had been annoyed to learn that there were many subtle ways you could slice this root or that. So many careful measurements to take into account in order to achieve the exact reaction that you wanted.

Honestly, Lyna didn't understand why any reaction _other_ then 'dead' was ever desirable, but Zevran had assured her that it was.

"Maker lovin', nug humper!" She growled as she cut her thumb.

"Tsk tsk. Such language! I believe you are spending too much time with our ale-soaked dwarven friend."

She glowered at him and stuck the injured digit in her mouth, tongue swirling around the cut; the taste of copper and deathroot bursted bitterly together in her throat.

"Mmm. Careful, you may give me ideas..." His amber eyes near sparkled in the firelight as he teased her. If it weren't for her wounded pride, she may well have blushed.

"A warm breeze gives you ideas, Zev."

He laughed lightly, "Ahh, but think of how tantalizing a warm breeze against cool flesh can be? It is a lovely sensation, is it not?" And okay, so this time she _did _blush. But really, with the heated words and the liquid eyes, how could it possibly be avoided?

He gestured to the board on her lap, "If I may?"

Somewhat apprehensive, Lyna agreed. Quick as lightening he settled behind her. One lithe arm snaked around her middle; warm, calloused fingers deftly settled over her own. Together, he moved their hands – wrapped them around the blade – and began to dice up the roots. She watched, mesmerized, as their joined hands nearly flew across the board.

Belying the speed of their movements, his voice was a soft, lolling purr in her ear, "There is an art to preparing a poison. One must…understand the subtle variations of each plant. Know what gives them their flavor, their _bite._"

Her whole body shivered on the last word, but that might have had something to do with a certain assassin's teeth nibbling on her ear.

"Zev, what are you doing?" If her voice was a tad more breathy than normal, well, that really couldn't be helped now, could it?

"What do you think it is that I am doing?"

"Tenderizing me."

She felt more than heard the rumbling chuckle at her back as Zevran released her, disentangling his body from hers. She did her best not to slump from the loss.

He raised her hand to his lips. "My dear, I cannot help it if you are a delicacy meant to be savored." With a final leer, he turned on his heel and sauntered off.

Really, could she be held responsible for staring after his retreating form longer than was necessary – knife forgotten in her hand?

"Andraste's flaming -!" Her face was near to burning as she shoved the same thumb back into her mouth.

Stupid poisons.

~End


End file.
